


The Student Council

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Asexuality, Closeted Character, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Health Anxiety, Homecoming, Homophobia, Hypochondria, Intersex, James Reynolds is a dick, M/M, Maria Reynolds is referred to as Maria Lewis, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Physical Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Private School, Psychosomatic Symptoms, Queerplatonic Relationships, Social Anxiety, Somatic Symptom Disorder, Student Council, Unplanned Pregnancy, hard of hearing character, james is intersex, my favorite guy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Student Council at Schuyler Private High School is interesting to some, disturbing to others, and the talk of the entire high school. Alexander Hamilton, an immigrant from the Caribbean, constantly argues with Virginian Thomas Jefferson about everything, from catering homecoming to the price of the Winter Play. (Breakfast at Tiffany's was a poor choice, by the way, Jefferson.)  As two newcomers, Gilbert-something-something-Lafayette and Aaron Burr are thrown into the fray, the school highly doubts if anyone will actually get anything done.





	1. "There is no way we're going to hire a catering company for homecoming."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm clawing myself out of the pits of social isolation and depression with a new Hamilton fan fiction! This will, hopefully, be updated bi-monthly, along with my plethora of Undertale fan fiction. Exact dates are not yet known, but expect frequent updates! <3

One of the best things about this particular school in New York, Schuyler Private High School, was the student council.

"Alright, should I write this down as 'Another insulting quip from Treasurer,' or?" Thomas Jefferson tapped pen against notebook as he raised an eyebrow at the current President of the Student Union, George Washington. Both the President and the Secretary cut their eyes to the Treasurer of the Union, who didn't seem to notice.

"Write that down exactly as I said it," the Treasurer, Alexander Hamilton, changed his voice to mimic the lilting drawl of his nemesis. "You best take that abysmal plan for managing what few funds we'e-- W-E-Apostrophe-E-- got, and shove it up your--"

"Hamilton," George resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, oddly enough suppressing a smile at the same time, and motioned to the door. "Take a walk." 

No one tells the president what to do, but that didn't stop Hamilton from mumbling about how _he_ was the Treasurer and  _he_ got a say in how the money worked as he marched from the room. The representatives of different clubs immediately set to chattering. The Representative from the French club, that one foreign exchange student, raised an eyebrow and nudged the person next to him, as if he _had_ to discuss the events that just transpired with someone. That someone happened to be Hercules Mulligan, who turned towards him with a grin a mile wide.

"Does this happen often?" The grinning boy nodded, and the tails of the bandanna on his head swayed with his enthusiasm. "My guy Hamilton, the one who just left, he keep these meetings interesting. Hell, I don't even _represent_ a club, I'm just here to watch him roast!" The door slammed behind the Treasurer, and Mulligan whooped. "Good riddance," Jefferson scoffed.

"But," Mulligan began again, picking up conversation with the foreign exchange student as if nothing has happened, "You must be either new or living under a freakin' rock if you don't know about the Student Council meetings." The other student nodded once, before motioning to Thomas, and a shorter boy who now took the seat Hamilton left vacant.

"Those are the only two I know. I exchanged, and since he-- Thomas, knows French, they thought it would be easier for me to talk to him, even if I know fluent English. I'm still getting my classes arranged and all. I'm in tenth grade." Hercules took note of his prominent accent, and nodded to acknowledge what he'd said.

"That's cool! I couldn't imagine ever learning a second language. Where'd you come from? Quebec, or something?" He failed to mention that he, too, was a sophomore.

"Mmm, no. France. Haute-Loire. I learned English of my own accord, with the help of tutors." Mulligan concluded that he had a nice voice, and struggled to continue the conversation. Oh, right!

"What's your name?" The French boy hesitated, shifting subtly in his seat. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right question to ask. Maybe this kid had some really long name that Hercules wouldn't remember, much less _pronounce_ correctly, and it would just be awkward all around.

The boy cleared his throat. "Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette." He let out the entire name in one singular breath, an annoyed expression crossing his features for a second, before suddenly ducking his head, smiling bashfully. "It's a mouthful, yes? Just call me Lafayette."

Holy shit. Hercules blinked. Yeah, there was _no way_ he was going to be able to remember that. Marie-Joseph-something-Yves-- His name had freaking _Yves_ in it-- Roch-Gilbert something something Lafayette. He'd get it someday.

"Laf, then! My name's Hercules Mulligan." Lafayette looked at him strangely for a second at the nickname, quickly recovering, a thoughtful, yet friendly look settling over his features. His eyebrows arched slightly, and his lips curved up just enough for Hercules to notice. He responded in kind, with a near face-splitting grin.

Lafayette opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sound of the door slamming again. Both of them jumped, and Hercules could feel his face heating up. He didn't like being startled, especially in front of people.

It was Alexander, and the entire room was silent, waiting to see what he'd say. Instead, he held up his notebook, and beamed with pride.

"I've found a fundraising campaign that, if done properly, will pay for an estimated _half_ of the expenses for the funds needed for the French Club's trip by December." Hercules spared a glance at the foreign-exchange student, who smiled as if someone had told him he were to be getting a one-hundred dollar gift card to Amazon. "And," Alex continued, glaring at Jefferson, "There is _no_ way we're going to hire a catering company for homecoming."

Madison put his head down on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. These meetings always gave him a headache, but he _had_ to come to support Jefferson, his best and only friend after he'd given Alexander and his crew the cold shoulder. Not only that, but he  _was_ the representative for the Home Ec. club, after Peggy  _insisted_ he'd do it to boost his confidence. Maybe he should have told her about the anxiety beforehand. The extravagant Southerner made a small noise of indignation, followed by an excessively loud "Excuse me?"

"Oh my God, Thomas, you can't be serious. Honestly, your frivolity somehow manages to both impress and stupefy me." Alexander shook his head slightly. "We can't even _afford_ a caterer. We are doing this on a five-hundred dollar budget, and one-fifth of that money has to go to the photo-booth rental. People are going to want their pictures taken. I'm putting aside one-fifty for the decorations, but that's the _very maximum_ I'm setting aside. That leaves an extra two-fifty for the food, and the music. Now, Laurens said he can get a discount price to rent one of those DJ station thingies from the dad of a girl in his sister's class in middle school, so that comes to about fifty bucks for one night..." His words were fading into jumbles as he wrote down the budget for the homecoming dance. Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you _can't_ be serious, Hamilton." His voice came out as a sneer, and his lips quirked upwards. Thomas was the epitome of sassy, even in his body language. Madison propped his head up in his hands to watch him as he talked.

"First of all, _please_ stop saying one-fifty and two-fifty and whatnot. It's one _hundred_ dollars. It's two _hundred_ dollars. But, I can't blame you, considering you've probably never even seen more than ten dollars in your life at one time." The Treasurer rolled his eyes once more; the "Rich boy" card didn't even faze him at this point. Yeah, Hercules helped him through tuition, so what? Alexander was smart, and scholarships covered most of the funds. For the part it  _didn't_ cover, hey, that's what having a friend with a designer label was for. Reaping the benefits. 

"Secondly, it is _insulting_ that you refused my request, seeing as the Student Union is based on a democracy."

"Yes, and I was elected, so. I get to say what's what, and you write down what I say."

"Are you even _going_ to the prom?" Jefferson flicked his mass of curly hair behind his shoulders, and Madison watched, mesmerized. He had such nice hair.

"Eliza asked me to, so, y'know. Unlike someone, I've got initiative to make this the best homecoming this school has ever seen." A chorus of various "Oooohs" sounded behind Jefferson, who blanched slightly. He'd asked Angelica just days before, and she'd rejected him with a quickness in front of the entire Chemistry class. It wasn't _fair_ that Alex got a Schuyler sister and he got broken promises! The Schuylers ran this school. Their dad kind of owned it, and they were definitely the prettiest girls in school. Angelica was the most intelligent, too. She was totally going to make valedictorian.

Even so, he brushed off the indirect burn and turned up his nose, a sign that his confidence wasn't going down so easily, even if he did feel a little embarrassed.

"When the event bombs because of your poor planning, I'm sure she'll know who to blame--"

"Do _you_ even have a date?--"

"Of course I do, you'll see--"

Their voices grew louder and overlapped as tensions rose in the room, as they always did, before both voices were cut off by a sort of hacking cough, which didn't usually happen. Thomas' glance darted down to James, who stood up abruptly. His full height was not that great, he barely came up to Jefferson's shoulder, and he held up a hand to indicate that he was _fine._

Having all those eyes on him didn't help, however. His cheeks burned as he kept coughing, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. His head was absolutely pounding from those two arguing at the top of their lungs, and as soon as he opened his mouth to try and get the conversation back on track, maybe address a few of the points the Home Ec. Club wanted to acknowledge, Thomas had to open his mouth about bringing someone to the dance and, well, this happened. How come he didn't know that? He was vaguely aware of Jefferson thumping him on the back and yelling about how is best friend was _dying_ and that someone needed to _do something,_ which, well, didn't help either. In fact, it may have sent James into a panic, but what's new?

The coughing fit slowly died down, but even after it did, he still couldn't get any air because what if he _was_ dying? What if him coughing so much was due to some sort of pneumonia, or flu, or bronchitis, or obscure allergy trigger, or something, and what if he missed so much school because of it that he couldn't possibly graduate in time, or what if--

His thoughts were drowned out only slightly by the distressed voice of his friend as he breathed into his hands. People told him _not_ to do that, but it seemed to help him breathe, so they couldn't tell him what to do.

"Jemmy, Jemmy, can you hear me? Can you breathe?" James nodded, and then immediately shook his head as he struggled to form some sort of assuring sentence. Literally _everyone_ was staring at him, with the exception of Washington, who had the decency to look away. Lafayette had stood up, as if to help in some way, before sitting back down, and it _almost_ looked like Alex was trying not to laugh while he was literally and actually dying. Maybe he was right to drop him as a friend. James motioned to the door. Jefferson seemed to get the message, and ushered him out.

In the hallway, James at least didn't have to worry about dying in front of so many people. His breaths came a little easier, but still he squeezed his eyes shut, fully and completely embarrassed. Jefferson, thankfully, didn't say anything, just waited for him to calm down.

"Is it okay if I go home?" Madison's voice was shaky, and he didn't pride himself on it. There was _no way_ he'd be walking back into that room until next Thursday's meeting, and even then, he may have to send Peggy in his stead.

Jefferson placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll walk you," He offered, but James shook his head. "No, you have work to do. Tell Alex--" He coughed again, and Jefferson flinched away, "Tell Alex that my club was going to handle the food, but only bring it up when he's got leverage." The taller boy thought this over, a small smile working its way onto his face.

"Not as good at catering, but I'll accept it. I'll bring it up at the next meeting, you wait here."

Thomas turned around, opened the door, and yelled into the meeting room, "I'm walking James home. We only had a few minutes left anyways, so meeting's adjourned." Most everyone agreed with this notion, and there was a rustling of paper, of book bags, and the chatter of voices, before Alex, of course, objected.

"You're the _Secretary_. You can't just adjourn a meeting because of a little coughing fit." As if looking for support, he turned his gaze onto George, who gave some sort of shrug and reached for both Alexander and Jefferson's notebooks.

"Alexander, just go home. You two can discuss this matter over the phone, or on the Tuesday meeting specifically for the homecoming dance. Thomas, spend more time writing and less time arguing on Tuesday. I'll fill in some of the major points, but I can't really turn in a page full of petty jabs to the PTA." Having deemed both parties successfully chastised, Washington pulled out his phone and checked in on his cats in Neko Atsume.

Seemingly satisfied with the verdict, Jefferson disappeared, the door closing gently behind him as he led his friend out of the school by the arm, the other politely objecting the entire time.

Lafayette exhaled. "That was. Something." He turned back towards Hercules again, before craning his neck to peer at the door, eyebrows scrunched with worry. "I hope James is okay."

The taller, broader sophomore dismissed his concern. "I'm sure he'll be fine. So, yeah, welcome to the magic of Student Council meetings!" He stood up to preform an over-dramatized bow. "Direct all of your questions out the window, if you may." He received a sort of humming laugh for his efforts.

"Nothing important gets done, I'm assuming." Lafayette stood up too, grabbing the small satchel he currently used for a backpack. It wouldn't hold much more than two textbooks at a time, thus making it rather impractical, but he didn't plan on going shopping for a new one until his schedule was finalized.

"Nah. We barely manage to get the important stuff done and ignore the minor details." The announcement that declared all after-school activities done played over the final part of his sentence, and students filed out of the class, out of the school, to the busy New York streets and skyscrapers bathed orange and pink by the beginning of dusk. The two hurried to join the crowd, and found that after crossing the first street, they were to part ways.

"So, I'll see you at lunch tomorrow. I'm not hard to miss, and that way I can introduce you to Alex and John." The prospect of introducing the new kid to his squad brought another cheery smile to Hercules' face, and, well, Lafayette had no reason to decline.


	2. Some Characters And Perhaps Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're introduced to our colorful cast of characters; The "out-and-about" John Laurens, the indescicive Alexander Hamilton, the tall, self-conscious Theodosia, the proud, intelligent Angelica, the soft, charming Eliza, and, most importantly, the sweet and friendly Peggy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a rambly chapter, but yeah! Everyone still has their siblings.

“You really shouldn’t be at school today.” James rolled his eyes at his best friend as the two followed Lafayette around, making banter. The French exchange student seemed to be searching for someone in the crowd at lunch. Hopefully he wasn’t bothering himself looking for John Adams, the only other person James and Thomas really hung around frequently. He wasn’t at school today. Something about a wedding.

“I’m not _that_ ill, Thomas, and I wasn’t yesterday. I just choked.” Involuntarily, Lafayette smirked at the implications of that statement, and turned around to show both of them. James scowled at him and looked away. He never was any fun, overly polite and too persnickety. Laf rolled his eyes and returned to his crowd searching.

“Was it something someone said, _mon faible cher_ ?” His voice dripped with a mocking tone he’d picked up in America and had been using ever since. It normally got the intended reaction out of Thomas, John Adams, and basically everyone else he’d ever used it on ever _except_ James Madison. He didn’t really seem to understand sarcasm.

“Actually, yeah.” His dark eyes darted to his right, to look at Thomas. “You said you had a date to Homecoming, but I thought Angelica _just_ refused your proposal. How’d you manage that so quickly?” Thomas just barely managed to cover his cringe by coughing once. That video of him ever so gracefully shoving his foot in his mouth in front of the single most beautiful, intelligent, and downright _exquisite_ (Exquisite? Yeah, exquisite) young lady anyone would have the privilege to meet had worked its way onto Youtube one way or another, and he seriously considered suing Hercules _fucking_ Mulligan for embarrassing him like that.

“I was bluffing.” He lowered his voice, so that James could barely hear him over the noise of the lunch room. Oh, okay, so he lied. James raised one eyebrow and smiled gently. “So, we’re still on?”

James and Thomas had a sort of pact. If Thomas hadn’t found anyone, as James put it, “desperate enough” to go with him to prom, then they’d just go as friends. That worked out for James nicely, seeing as the most advanced social interaction he’d had in his life were well-timed quips that actually managed to make his limited friend group laugh. He’d never been on a date, despite being a sophomore. Never had a kiss. Hell, even his younger brother, Ambrose, had been kissed, and he was in _seventh_ _grade._ Talk about embarrassing.

“Yeah, we’re still on, Jemmy. Not for long though, you’ll see.”

“Don’t call me Jemmy,” came the immediate, nonchalant response as the two followed Lafayette, bobbing and weaving through throngs of people.

“Alright, Jimmy James.”

“Thomas.”

“Jimbo Jones.”

_“Thomas.”_

“Laf!” A too-loud, overjoyed voice broke off their banter. In front of the trio sat Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton, and John Laurens. The latter was frantically copying down the homework health class had assigned the day prior from Alex’s paper. Madison and Health had a love/hate relationship. On one hand, he would take any information regarding health that he couldn’t get from his parents. On the other hand, he shared the class with the opposing squad, _plus_ Edward Stevens,  Alex’s adoptive brother,  and none of his friends were in that class. Talk about overwhelming.

Hercules beamed as the French student sat down next to him, staring at the decent-looking food on the tray Hercules had gotten. Lafayette nodded politely at Alex and John, who he didn’t know very well at all. He recalled Alexander as the one who’d stomped off and closed the door during the Student Council meeting, and he _thought_ he might have recognized John as the guy who tried to get him to join ROTC, but he couldn’t be sure.

Alex was glaring daggers at Thomas, who repaid the favor in kind. Madison stood to one side, supporting his friend quietly, as usual. The two sat down, James making sure to sit on the opposite side of the table, at the edge, so he would only be forced to sit next to Jefferson.

He eyed John Laurens, who was too busy laughing at something Herc had said to notice. He was Southern, just like James and Thomas, but unlike them, he spoke in a perfectly normal Northern accent, save for the occasional “y’all.”

Alexander eyed Lafayette wearily. Any friend of Jefferson was not someone he wanted to associate with, especially after Madison ditched him the way he did. He observed the mannerisms of the Frenchman, watched as he gesticulated while talking to Hercules, ("Butter isn't a carb, mon ami!") before leaning forwards, arching his eyebrows, and responding to something Thomas had said. Herc scanned his eyes over Jefferson, and his eyebrows shot up as he scowled.

“You look like a goddamn piece of red velvet cake, Jesus Christ.” James-- who was currently taking a swig of iced tea from the thermos he carried around _everywhere--_ immediately choked and started coughing, covering his mouth with his sweater sleeve. That caused John to laugh, little giggle-snorts that caused Alex to smile in turn. Those two were very in-sync, the type of in-sync that led most people to believe that _something_ was going on between them. Thomas sputtered, standing up with his hands on the table, eyes trained on Hercules.

He wasn’t wrong. Jefferson decided that it would be in his best interest to wear a single-breasted red velvet blazer, complete with matching pants and tie, and a  button-up shirt tinted only slightly pink. The more everyone stared, the more everyone realized that he really _did_ look like a slice of red-velvet cake. Lafayette tossed a napkin at Madison and expertly concealed his mirth.

Thomas thumped his friend on the back, slowly sitting  back down and scoffing. “Owning a clothing line don’t mean you know a thing about fashion, I mean, look at the Kardashians,” He drawled, receiving a glare from everyone at the table, especially Hercules, because he took a lot of inspiration from the Kardashian clothesline and this was _slander_ to his good name. Madison made it a point to look away, going so far as to take out his contacts. He prided himself on his intelligence. If Mulligan decided to kill Thomas for his comment, at least he’d have deniability.

“ _Mon dieu_ , are you serious, Thomas?” The suppressed smile slowly creased over Lafayette’s face as he leaned forwards, batting his eyelashes. “You look like a pokéball.” With his accent, the pronunciation of the word was a little funny.

James started choking again, and maybe there was a hint of a laugh that was quickly obscured by his near-dying.

“I thought you were on my side, ‘Fayette.” Thomas looked down at his outfit, meticulously picking at it and huffing out a loud breath, sparing a glare at his coughing best friend, who ducked his head apologetically. Both of them knew he wasn’t at all sorry.

“Roasted!” John called, eliciting a confused response from Lafayette.

“What is?” He glanced around, confused by the usage of the word, looking to Hercules for confirmation. “Nothing has been broiled, right?”

John immediately turned to Jefferson. “You didn’t even teach him **basic** slan--”

Alex, Jefferson and Hercules exclaimed three different names at the same time, overriding John. Alex beckoned to the Schuyler sisters to join them.

Conversation ceased as Eliza brushed off her dress, smiling expectantly at Hercules. Shrugging, he moved over a seat, so Eliza could sit next to Alexander. Angelica, the oldest, sat down on the other side of the table, the only other seat open at the table. Peggy looked around, mildly conflicted, before simply sitting down on Hercules.

Lafayette grinned at them, learning forwards and lacing his hands together. “Hercules, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!”

“No! Uh, we’re just really comfortable friends.” As if to prove it, he ruffled her hair, and she stuck out her tongue and flicked his forehead. No one expected a guy like Hercules to be platonic friends with a girl.

Alexander quieted. It was as if he lost his voice around Eliza. Around John, Jefferson, Washington, _anyone,_ he was verbose, loud, and aggressive. But it was different around Eliza, and different around Angelica.

With Eliza, he was gentle, and soft. It was as if the frightened, extremely intelligent boy of Nevisian roots had resurfaced from the Americanized, forceful version that had formed around his core. And with Angelica, he was more calculating. Smooth, precise, exchanging paragraphs with a quirk of the brow, a small smile, a flick of the wrist. Two women, and two sides that no one else could produce from him.

Eliza smiled softly at Alexander, reaching for his hand atop the table, before nodding at John, who nodded quickly before looking away. She knew him only through Alex and considered him a distant friend, or perhaps a close acquaintance, and suppressed the flash of distaste in her gaze as her eyes pass over Madison and Jefferson. She prided herself on her poker face.

Those two thought so _highly_ of themselves, but Eliza could think of about seventeen different reasons not to like them both. Madison was both opinionated and indecisive, somehow, and shut down at the most minor provocation, and Jefferson? Grandiose, ignorant, and a bit too… desperate. That’s a very nice way to put it. Oh, and also he had a gross crush on her sister, and his thirst would have dried out any normal man. Another very nice way to put it.

“So, homecoming plans,” Angelica began, lacing her hands together and eyeing Alex, a small, knowing grin settling on her face. “Shoot.” He made finger guns at her with his free hand.

“Well, we have only a few _plan_ plans yet.” His gaze cut to Jefferson for a second, before he continued, a half-smirk on his face. “But _I_ will resolve that soon. We _have_ settled on a theme, fliers will be going up tomorrow. The ‘20s, because Madison is very creative, and inspiring, and we should all be singing his praises as the fuckboys arrive with their ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ lookin-asses and homecoming is ruined.’”

Madison looked a little offended, setting down his thermos. “I had to compromise before you all killed each other.” He coughed into his fist. “Monroe is a queen, though. And objectively, you _are_ a fuckboy.”

“I meant _your_ plans, of course,” Angelica continued, completely ignoring Madison. Alexander’s cheeks pinkened at his slight mistake, but shrugged it off, nervously running his thumb across Eliza’s hand.

“Well, I have the pleasure of taking Betsey to homecoming, as I am sure you already know.” He brought Eliza’s hand to his mouth, kissing it once and letting his lips linger, his mouth slowly turning up to a smile as she turned her head away in a coy manner, letting her hand drop when he released it. Beautiful light brown eyes danced over his for only a second, despite the temptation to gaze at the happiness she found in his gaze forever. Damn, she was helpless, wasn’t she?

Lafayette stole a glance at Hercules, incredulity etched in his features. “So, next you’re going to say that those two are not an item,” he mumbled under his breath, so that only Peggy and Hercules could hear him. Both of them shook their heads, and Peggy’s expression said all: _It’s complicated._

Hercules widened his eyes and flashed them in the direction of Laurens quickly, who had propped his head up with his arm and pointedly stared out into the distance. He didn’t look happy, didn’t look upset. He looked decidedly neutral, almost spaced-out, and Lafayette understood. He nodded in sympathy.

“I’m going to wear something Herc’s promised to make me, he says he’s almost done,” Alexander continues, unaware, “and I’ve no idea what Eliza’s going to wear, she refuses to tell me. We may not even be matching.” He almost sounded genuinely worried as bit his lip, thoughtful.

Lafayette drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Should I go? I mean, I am new, my schedule is not even entirely worked out, and I don’t have a date.” He paused in his drumming to wring his hands together. “And I have nothing to wear. But, it would be a shame to miss the experience--”

“I’m free.” Laurens’ voice cut into Lafayette’s monologuing. He resisted the urge to glare at Alexander. _Since someone’s going with his new_ **_girlfriend_ ** _._

No. He would _not_ be passive-aggressive, and he would not be jealous. It’s not like. Not like he and Alex were ever _officially_ dating. They’d only kissed at parties, because it was in the dark and no one really had to know, did they? Despite it all, Alexander was still his best friend, and he’d helped the Nevisian through a lot. Even if he was dating Eliza and didn’t tell him, and continued to flirt with him anyways. ‘S fine. Completely fine.

“Really?” Lafayette’s voice held caution, as if he could see the metaphorical cloud pass over John’s features.

“Yeah, well, Little Jemmy’s birthday is the day of homecoming-- That’s my brother, he's turning ten!-- so I can’t really go to the parade, but after I’m done babysitting him and his friends, I think I can make the dance, lemme ask my dad.” He extends a hand, silently inquiring for Alexander’s phone, as he isn’t allowed to have his own until he turns eighteen.

Thomas gave James a look that clearly read, _You never let me call_ ** _you_** _Jemmy._ James ignored it.

John left the lunchroom to make the call in a less loud environment. As he stood up, an astoundingly tall girl strode up to the table, short hair a mess of curls and frizz. She must have been as tall as Hercules, maybe even taller, but much more lanky and thin. John waved at Theodosia before he left.

Theodosia sat down where he’d been, and shoved her phone in Angelica’s face. “Look at this.” Her voice was as even-keeled and calm as ever, but Angelica knew her friend well, and raised an eyebrow at the underlying tones of excitement. She took the phone from Theodosia and scrolled down through the messages presented.

As she read, she felt her lips twitch up into an empathetic smile for the taller girl. “He’s enrolling here?”

Theodosia nodded vigorously, her hair bouncing. “He just got enrolled, he's still in the office right now. He's starting tomorrow.” 

Aaron Burr was her crush. She didn’t want to sound like a typical, blushing, silly highschooler, but that’s how it was, and that’s how it’d been since elementary school, where they’d both noticed that they were on-par intellectually. Aaron was an orphan, but Theodosia didn’t pity him. Instead, she claimed that life threw certain trials at certain people because they were strong enough to take it.

They’d lived in the same area for a while, but Aaron moved to live with his uncle, and their friendship survived through texts, calls, and the occasional visit. He’d just moved back, as his uncle married and moved houses to accommodate his blushing bride, and his quality grades had gotten him into private school. She would get to see him _every day._

She tried to stifle the fluttering in her stomach at the thought. He would see how she’d grown so tall within the last year, like a weed, and how her barely-manageable hair fluffed out in curly whisps like a puff of dandelion. She couldn’t possibly do her hair and makeup every day just to make him think she was pretty. He would see how she still didn’t have many friends and stuck to her books. He would see how much she liked him.

Imagine, six-foot-two Theodosia Bartow Prevost, sensible, lionhearted Theo, with a _crush._

Angelica gave the other girl’s phone back to her with a thoughtful expression. “If he’s _actually_ worthy of your attention, let me get a piece of that, huh?”

 _“Angie!”_ Theo couldn’t erase the smile from her face as her friend shrugged innocently. "You’re welcome for the compliment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mon faible cher - My poor dear, my fragile darling, etc.


	3. Aaron Burr, Sir.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron's kind of short. Theodosia's very tall. Alexander's a little pissed. Angelica's a little... pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read my shame. I need to update. I need to update everything--
> 
> Also I'm thinking of writing one of these for the Hamilkids--
> 
> EDWARD STEVENS IS REAL AND GOOD AND CANON. LEAVE HIM ALONE.

Angelica couldn’t help feeling… What’s the word? Disappointed. Yes, she felt very disappointed, watching from the inside of the school building as one of her best friends lean forwards to hug whom she could only guess was Aaron Burr. She’d never seen him before in her life. He was  shorter than average, certainly no taller than 5’7”, with a shaved head and what she considered to be an overly polite smile. He was reserved, like there was a layer that separated him and the rest of the world, this special sort of aloof that Angelica almost mistook for a sort of petty pride, before deeming him “shy.” Still, she didn’t quite like him. 

Groups of people milled outside the school. Arriving early had it’s perks, it provided a decent amount of time to talk with your friends before school, so most everyone did it in the mornings before winter set in.The Schuyler sisters, unlike others, were not permitted to wait outside before school began, instead sitting inside the office, talking quietly as their father helped the secretary sort papers and leave messages for parents. Peggy used that time to message her friends instead of face-to-face contact, and to check on her eggs in Pokemon Go. 

There were your typical groups: James, Thomas, Lafayette and John Adams bunched up together, Thomas leaning against the school wall whilst the latter three talked rapidly, trying to upstage each other while the former listened disinterestedly; Samuel Seabury and George King talking about some obscure television show they’d watched last night. Charles Lee stood in the corner by himself, checking a dirty-looking stray dog for a tag or collar. That kid loved animals.  Alexander, Hercules, John, and Edward Stevens had just arrived, and their laughter and loud talking filled the crisp fall air. None of that mattered to Theodosia. Aaron was smiling at her.

“You’ve gotten taller.” He had to tilt his head back a little to look her in the eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind. Theo ran a hand through her short hair and met his gaze, grinning, one hand on her hip.

“Yeah, I know.” Despite the chatter raging all around them, a comfortable silence dawned on the two old friends. Aaron was just as reserved as ever, but he must have been at least a little excited to see her again, right? Although he’d moved back a week ago, he hadn’t bothered to tell Theodosia until yesterday, due to the rush of unpacking and enrolling. They really had a lot to catch up on.

Aaron’s smile reached his eyes, crinkling his cheeks and bringing a certain light to them that led Theodosia to wonder why Aaron never really had many friends. Well, they’d been apart for a while, maybe he  _ did _ now. Maybe he had twenty friends and a girlfriend he’d left behind. Imagine, Aaron with a  _ girlfriend! _ That… that’s absolutely silly. She’d never bothered to ask, simply because of how absolutely  _ asinine  _ that notion was. There was no way Aaron had a girlfriend. Right. Right.

Lost in her thoughts, Theodosia didn’t notice five particular males sneak up behind her. Lafayette had broken off from his typical group of four to talk with his new friends, and upon seeing Aaron, the group went to get a closer look.

“Who’s this, Theo?” Hercules’  loud voice caused her to jolt, and she felt her face burn at Aaron’s subsequent chuckle. She glanced back quickly to the four, gaze scathing. Hercules ducked his head down and apologized.

“Sorry, Theo. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He actually seemed a little bashful, and offered her a grin. Theodosia huffed, wordlessly accepting the apology with a fleeting smile of her own and turning back to Aaron. 

“Aaron, these are some of my friends.” Friends was a loose term, and her voice caught on the word uncertainly. “Alexander, John, Hercules, Edward and…” She trailed off, not having caught Lafayette’s name. 

“Marie-Joseph Paul... Roch...uhm, Yves Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, but if you try and memorize it all, you’ll get a headache, so just call him Lafayette, or Gilbert, I guess,” Hercules blurted out. Everyone looked at him for a second.

“It’s not Yuh-ves, it’s pronounced Eve. Like Christmas Eve. And the Roch comes after Yves.” Lafayette’s voice held a mock-reprimanding quality, and his sparkling eyes held some form of amusement in them. “You tried very hard, however. Thank you.” 

Hercules beamed at the compliment, and John rolled his hazel eyes, leaning on Alexander, who ruffled up his curled hair in response. “Alexander Hamilton.” The Nevisian repeated his own name, nodding at Aaron.

“Aaron Burr. Please to meet you, Hamilton.” Aaron held out his hand to Alexander, and they shook. His formality seemed to catch Alexander off-guard, as he gave a sideways glance to Theodosia. She, for her part, shrugged at his incredulity. It’s just who Aaron was, after all. 

“Jeez, what is this? I’ve never been made to shake hands with someone in my own grade. What  _ are _ you, Mister Burr?  _ Sir? _ ” He quickly added the rhyming title on, and Edward snorted.

Burr stiffened imperceptibly, and his voice took on a much more impersonal tone, colder than the crisp fall air everyone stood in.

“Hamilton, I think it’d do you a lot of good to talk less.” His comment, and subsequent smile, were both met with a resounding silence as Alexander took in what he’d said, playful grin slowly fading from his face, replaced again with incredulity. He raised an eyebrow slowly, dramatically, and then turned to his brother, as if to confirm what had just been said to him. Edward nodded solemnly. John, Hercules, and Lafayette stood on edge, waiting to see how he’d react. Was this new boy friend, foe, or somewhere in the middle? 

“You know, I just  _ love _ when someone decides they can sum up my entire personality within five minutes of meeting me,” He began. “I love it even more when they can’t take a joke properly and act like if Phineas Gage had a pole shoved up his ass instead of in his brain.”

His voice rose steadily, and at the final word, he spun on his heels and walked up to the steps of the school, sitting down with as much of a flourish that a high school sophomore can muster when sitting down. Hercules let out a low whistle and John went to go join his friend, but not before throwing the confused Aaron a bright grin.

“Welcome to Schuyler’s,” He called back.


End file.
